Friday, August 14, 2009
Thus far Prince Edward Island reminds me of what I imagine life on Cape Cod would've been like in the early 1950's: unspoiled and uncrowded beaches, little traffic and friendly folks. This morning’s excursion only reinforced this opinion. The 3 mile bike ride to Poverty Beach took us past manicured farmhouses and rolling pastures to a deserted little pristine beach. Not sure what it looks like in winter but at the moment it appeared idyllic. After taking Nicky for a good romp, we had a leisurely bike ride home.
Back at the Casita, Carol got out the big binoculars and trained them on Seal Island. Now that the tide was low the seals were running wild. There must have been fifty or more of them having a grand old time. They were squawking and sunning themselves as if they were at a seal resort. By the time we got the boat in the water and rowed over to it, the seals had departed. We walked and swam along the now deserted island and marveled at all the seal tracks and wondered where they'd gone. Pushing off from the island we crossed to the campground side of the bay. Once we got into deeper water we noticed the usual suspects following at a discreet distance. Technology, I'm sure, will someday allow us to communicate directly with whales, porpoises and other intelligent aquatic mammals. I hope they crack the seal code as well. I'd like to go back one day and have a chat with the rascal that breeched the surface just behind Carol's head.
Anyway, I tried rowing further away from our beach to test the currents. Yesterday we were able to ride them back toward the campground and I was hoping to find something similar today so I could sit back and listen to Carol read from The Kybalion. Unfortunately, the currents were running in the opposite direction this time. After my Kouchibouguac experience, I was not about to take a St. Lawrence current lightly. Instead, we found a quiet marsh where we could relax without any danger of getting swept out to sea. The last thing I'd want to read is a headline stating that two tourists and a dog were plucked out of a rubber dinghy in the middle of the Newfoundland shipping lanes. How embarrassing would that be?
Now, however, in the calm marsh waters, Carol was able to get The Kybalion out and we could float around in the mystical world of the unseen. Someday, I'm sure, everything will all make sense and I'll be a wiser man but until that day, all I seem to have is more questions and fewer answers. It was getting on towards evening when we pulled the boat up onto the beach in front of the Casita. After a refreshing cup of tea and a stroll around the park, we were treated to another magnificent sunset.
Later that evening I finished A Feast for Crows, the last installment of George R. R. Martin's cult classic. All I can say is that he'd better be busy writing another book. For such an incredible series to end so inconclusively is unconscionable. In the June 2005 Afterword he claims to be working on the final installment “A Dance with Dragons”, but as far as I know this has never been published. I hope the guy hasn't died, or some such inconvenience.